


The Gang Touches Some Feet

by runwithneedles



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Boromir Lives, Canon Divergence - The Lord of the Rings, Denethor - Freeform, Gen, Hugs, In Which I Disregard A Lot Of Worldbuilding, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Lord of the Rings, Post-War of the Ring, The three Middle earth amigos, death mention, oh well, what’s canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 01:10:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17172998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runwithneedles/pseuds/runwithneedles
Summary: This is in response to this tumblr post: http://penny-anna.tumblr.com/post/174574951833/penny-anna-boromir-lives-au-where-instead-ofIt is in blatant disagreement with both a great deal of LOTR canon and also common sense in our own world,  including but not limited to:-where to take a pulse-whether or not one could sneak in and out of Minas Tirith. (Highly debatable)-whether or not inhabitants of Middle earth say the word “fuck”-whether or not anyone could actually sneak up to within 20 feet of Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli without them catching it.-whether or not one could survive a fall from a massive waterfall: for precedent we may refer to the many wild exploits of people going over Niagara, and Faramir’s account of seeing Boromir’s funeral canoe go past. So, this one is a maybe.Please keep this in mind while reading. Also I cannot resist writing stupid jokes, so this is vastly different in tone from the source material. RIP stylistic consistency.





	The Gang Touches Some Feet

The celebrations are over, everyone has cried, everyone is beginning to think of the unthinkable: going home. They have all thought of it longingly a thousand times throughout the journey, but now it means immense change on the threshold, and leaving their companions and it’s just a lot, everything has happened so much. 

Trying to escape these myriad feelings, Legolas and Gimli play hookey. Legolas was supposed to meet with the Prince of Dol Amroth, to discuss a journey to his citadel near the sea. 

Gimli just doesn’t want to pack. He’s been given too many gifts and none of them are normally shaped. 

They meander down the streets of Minas Tirith, avoiding other people and their own responsibilities.  
They are sneaking down a dark alley when Gimli stops on a dwarven dime (which is smaller than a regular dime), and stares. Legolas runs into him. For someone so comparatively graceful you would think he’d do that less, but Gimli knows the truth: he does it on purpose. 

Anyway, there is a pair of boots and long legs in front of them.  
Legolas looks the attached human dead in the eye. 

“We’re looking for the king, have you seen him?”

Aragorn laughs easily: he’s had his fill of solitude and he’s glad to see them.  
He gets up and they walk outside the city together, towards Osgiliath, where already plants and trees are beginning to soften the landscape, growing quickly, as if the soil itself were more fertile and alive now. 

They reach Anduin and sit on its banks, Legolas perched on a rock. Gimli brings out the pipeweed,and he and Aragorn smoke in silence. 

They sit there for a while, enjoying the peace, each aware in his heart that everything is about to change, everything has changed, they cannot go back, they want to go home but home will not be the same. Aragorn thinks about making a home: that’s another task entirely.

Just as they’re all about 7 feet deep in their thoughts, Legolas turns his head like a cat that’s seen a mouse, his big ears perked to their right. 

“someone is near” he says quietly. 

They have only small weapons, no one knows where they are, that was foolish, they’ve had enough of ambush for seven lifetimes, the sounds are audible to Aragorn and Gimli now and there is definitely someone in the underbrush about 20 feet away. 

The person appears. 

He is very tall, very broad, with a beard that would give a dwarven king jealous dreams. His hair looks like a tumbleweed. He is carrying a shield. 

a FAMILIAR shield. 

“on Eru’s name” says Aragorn very quietly. He opens his mouth to ask the impossible question when Boromir cuts him off 

“you FOOLS. You benighted heroic fools. You fucking………...you IDIOTS. I have been WAITING, and WALKING, and…..growing hair. I thought you were dead. I thought I was dead. I thought everyone was dead you let the ELF take my….”

 

Gimli has had enough of this: before Legolas or Aragorn can stop him he goes up to Boromir and gently punches him in the stomach. 

“you’re REAL!!!! LADDIE YOU’RE NOT DEAD.”

The dwarf embraces him, and all the fire leaves Boromir’s face: it’s been so many months. He hugs Gimli in return. 

By this time Aragorn and Legolas have snapped out of their reverie and descend on Boromir in a rush. For fully several minutes Gimli is hidden in the middle of them.

Finally they let Boromir breathe, which until recently they’d thought he wasn’t doing anymore 

Before Aragorn can ask the obvious question, Boromir turns to Legolas and looks him in the eye, like a teacher who’s caught a student cheating. 

“Tell me, pointy-ears, had you ever taken a human pulse before that day at Rauros?”  
Legolas closes his eyes. 

“no.”

“And tell me, WHERE did you think you should take it.”

“well.”

“YES”

“thesoleofthefoot”

“WHY, BY ALL THE VALAR, WOULD MY PULSE BE IN MY FOOT.”

“That’s where my people’s pulse is! The legend goes that since we are kin with the earth our life’s rhythm is nearest to the earth. i had THOUGHT”

“you THOUGHT did you.”

“yes. that since ALLEGEDLY men are also of the earth, that it would make SENSE for your pulse to be there!”

They stop talking, because they have to fetch Gimli from the river, wherein he’s fallen from laughing too hard, and Aragorn is going to fall in shortly for the same reason. Usually he’s pretty good at getting himself and others out of rivers, but today is an outlier, in a variety of ways. 

They get out of the river, and find that their cheeks are wet from the rescue or the laughter or just the sheer relief of their dull dormant grief flapping away like a big stupid bird. 

To no one’s surprise, it is Aragorn who pulls them back to the present. 

“Boromir. Your brother must know. And your…”

 

“My father..” 

he catches the change in tone in Strider’s voice, and looks at him steadily. 

“He perished”

“Yes. The full tale can wait. Let us go”

It is a task requiring all their collective stealth to arrive unnoticed at the door of Faramir’s room, but they manage it. 

Before they can stop him, Boromir knocks and calls through the door 

“Permission to enter?”

There is a pause, but no face appears at the small window in the door. He may not believe his ears. He may not want to look. The great shadow only lifted a little while ago, and it doesn’t disappear easily from the mind. 

Boromir opens the door. Faramir is sitting in a chair near the bed with his head in his hands. He looks up, stares at them, his face a mask. 

Boromir crosses the room, kneels in front of him and takes his hands in his own. 

“Little brother, I’m home.”


End file.
